


Welcome to the World

by secretly_squirrelled



Category: The Americans (TV 2013)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-14
Updated: 2014-05-14
Packaged: 2018-01-24 17:35:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1613537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secretly_squirrelled/pseuds/secretly_squirrelled
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A couple of short one-shots exploring the making of the Jennings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Paige

Philip rubbed his eyes before turning the door knob. He yawned as he entered the modest one bedroom house. After a 24 hour shift of surveillance, all he could think about was sleep. He entered the bedroom, already unbuttoning his shirt. As was customary, he announced his arrival with a whisper, "you awake?" She always was. This time, the question was met with silence.

Tired eyes scanned the room, wondering how his brain failed to alert him of her absence. "Elizabeth?" He called out into the night as he made his way to the living room. "Elizabeth?" He called her name again to no avail. Anger mounted in the pit of his stomach as he realized that his nine month pregnant wife wasn't home at three in the morning. Again.

He swallowed hard. As was routine, he checked the safe box, breathing a sigh of relief to find nothing missing. He convinced himself that she wouldn't run without taking at least a few provisions. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes hard, wondering how it all came to this. Just go to bed, he told himself. He headed toward the kitchen instead, hoping a nightcap would dull his racing thoughts enough that he could fall asleep.

Philip retrieved the hidden bottle of vodka and poured a shot. It went down easy, so he poured another. He lowered his head and something caught his eye. He picked up the small piece of paper, his eyes scanning the neat handwriting. His tired brain struggled to make sense of the words.

_P -_

_At the hospital. It's time._

_\- E_

His heart began to race and his mind went fuzzy. He could barely recall his frantic drive to the hospital. Philip struggled to appear calm as he walked up to the receptionist and asked about Elizabeth. The receptionist called for a nurse, who informed him that the baby hadn't come yet, but that Elizabeth would be fine because she was "strong." He unintentionally grinned, knowing that Elizabeth would have been pleased with the adjective used to describe her. He was escorted to the waiting room and took a seat in one of the chairs, relieved that the room was empty. He really wasn't in the mood to feign happy conversation with some over anxious fathers-to-be. He had enough of his own anxiety to work out.

He exhaled, leaned his head back, and closed his eyes. What seemed like only a minute turned into an hour when the calm was interrupted. "Mr. Jennings?" The voice asked.

He opened his eyes and jumped to his feet, "That's me. How is she?"

"Both mom and baby are doing great. Come on now," the nurse motioned down the hall, "let's go meet your daughter."

His daughter. The reality of the situation hit him, stealing his oxygen. He recalled Elizabeth's musing, You'll make a good father. With only the faintest memory of his own father, Philip wasn't convinced. Regardless, he didn't have much of a choice. The Centre was already questioning him about "his progress in that area" – it wouldn't be long before they expected results.

Given the difficulties in their relationship, the irony of how easily the child was conceived wasn't lost on him. The first couple of months were spent arguing about the role of a pregnant KGB officer. The Centre knows I'm pregnant, Philip. They wouldn't give me this assignment if I couldn't do it. If it wasn't important, she'd argue. He'd ultimately drop the issue. Thankfully, when the small bump in her midsection appeared, the Centre limited her duties to surveillance and checking a few, relatively safe, drop sites. Still, as the tiny person he created grew inside her, so did the tension between them. He spent more time with work. She spent more time outside of the house. He knew she would lie when he'd ask her about it, but he never pressed it more than that. He could see behind her calm demeanor that she was terrified. He was too.

"Hi, mom! You have a visitor!" The nurse announced in a sing-song voice as they entered the small room.

Elizabeth looked up from the small bundle in her arms only for a second to give the nurse a tired smile, "thank you."

Philip remained frozen as the nurse left the room. The beauty of the scene took his breath away. He never saw Elizabeth look so happy. She looked tired, but she glowed as her long hair cascaded freely down her shoulders. He held his breath, as if his slightest movement would spoil the moment.

Finally, he spoke in a whisper, "How are you?"

She responded without looking up from the bundle, "Good."

"Good." He repeated, trying hard to keep his voice steady.

Elizabeth looked up and locked eyes with him, "Come here."

He moved next to them, his eyes fixated on the sleeping person in her arms.

Elizabeth looked up at him. "Do you want to hold her?"

He nodded. The baby stirred as Elizabeth shifted her to her father's arms.

"Shh. Shh. It's ok. You're ok." Philip cooed in an effort to calm the now squirming child. When she settled, he looked down. The baby opened her eyes for a second, locking them with his. 

Minutes passed before Elizabeth broke the silence. "You smell like vodka, " she continued, "and look like shit."

He laughed loudly, but quieted quickly, mindful of the baby in his arms. "It's been a long day," he smiled at the girl, laughter still in his voice, "hasn't it, little one?"

Elizabeth responded with a long yawn, her eyelids heavily, "Paige."

"Paige," He repeated. The name was chosen by the Centre and he was aware of it long before today. But, this time, as the name left his lips, he felt something different. It wasn't just a name anymore. It was more than just a lie to protect their cover. It was more real than that. His daughter. His hand reached out and grazed wisps of the baby's fine red locks.

As if reading his mind, Elizabeth commented, "That hair."

"It's from my side." He responded proudly. It was more for his own sake than for her information, so he chose to ignore Elizabeth's evident frustration at the exposure of a forbidden secret. Just then, almost as if the child sensed the tension in the room, a small fist emerged from the blanket. Philip reached out for the tiny hand and the baby responded by grasping his index finger. He smiled, giving his full attention to the tiny person in his arms, "welcome to the world, Paige Jennings."


	2. Henry

Elizabeth braced herself on the sink and shut her eyes. She cursed her stomach has it leapt at the sound of the front door closing. She opened her eyes, rushing to brush her teeth and fix her hair. She emerged from the bathroom just as the bedroom door swung open.

Without directly acknowledging her, Philip spoke quickly as he rummaged through a dresser drawer, "Just got back. Put Paige down for a nap. Have that meet tonight, doubt I'll make it home for dinner."

Elizabeth didn't respond, but moved over to sit on the edge of the bed, willing her stomach to settle.

Philip let out an exasperated sigh and turned around, "Are you even listening to me?" The frustration automatically left his voice when he caught glimpse of her face, he reached out to touch her shoulder, "Hey, are you okay?"

Her stomach decided to answer the question for her. She immediately sprung up from the bed and ran to the bathroom. She fell to her knees as the sickness overtook her. Five wretched minutes that seemed like an eternity passed before she acknowledged Philip's presence, marked by the warm hand gently rubbing her back.

Elizabeth didn't move, her eyes clutched shut as the last waves of nausea passed. She lowered herself to the ground, moving her back to lean on the cold porcelain of the bathtub. She swallowed cautiously, and let go of a breath she didn't realize she was holding.

Philip remained kneeled, now in front of her, his expression a mix of confusion and concern, "Are- are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm fine." Elizabeth shook her head and feigned a smile.

His eyes remained locked on hers, expression unchanging.

"Really." She diverted her eyes, "It must have been something I ate."

"You've barely eaten in days."

"That's not true."

Philip raised his eyebrows.

"It's not like you see everything I do," she retorted.

He shook his head. "Why are you lying?" he asked, unnecessarily, the realization hitting him before the words left his mouth.

Philip's eyes lowered to the gold band on his left hand. Elizabeth looked over at him, silently watching him piece the puzzle together. He finally asked, "H-how far along?"

She shrugged, keeping her voice even, "A few months."

"How long have you known?"

"I don't know. A month. Maybe more."

He looked up at her, eyes glassy and expression reminiscent of a hurt child, "Why didn't you tell me?"

She didn't answer, but turned her head away from him in an effort to shield herself from the guilt that threatened to seep in.

Philip's mind raced through the silence until a sickening thought struck him, draining the color from his face. "Is-is it…" The word caught in his throat, "…mine?"

The question made Elizabeth's already upset stomach churn. It was more than just an open acknowledgment of the other men she gave her body to for the sake of following orders. The thought of carrying the child of one of the weak American targets made her sick. And, what was worse, for as much as she wanted to be infuriated with him for asking, she knew he had every right to question it.

She stared directly into his eyes as she answered, "Yes."

Elizabeth decided to forego the explanation, having little desire to recount her recent success using alternative methods to garnish information from her sexually-starved victims. She was grateful when an unmasked look of relief flooded Philip's face, making it evident that no explanation was necessary.

Then, suddenly, the wave of sickness overtook her again. Without warning, she lunged past him to the toilet and expelled what little her stomach still contained. She slumped back down on the cold linoleum, shut her eyes, and wished the feeling away.

Minutes passed before she acknowledged Philip's repetitive soft whispers that accompanied the warm hand gently caressing her back, "Shh. I'm sorry. Please relax. I'm so sorry. It's okay. Shh."

His pitiful tone made her feel pathetic. Elizabeth blinked hard in an effort to stop the room from spinning and ran a hand through her hair, "I'm fine." She steadied an arm on the edge of the toilet and attempted to stand up when blood suddenly rushed to her head causing her to falter. She instinctually moved her hand to her stomach as her vision tunneled.

Quickly responding, Philip stood up and steadied her, "Hey, hey. Not so fast." he gently guided her back down to the floor, "Come on, let's sit down." He sat on the ground, leaned against the bathtub and opened his legs guiding her to sit between them, "Come here."

All her focus dedicated to the sickness in her stomach that threatened to reemerge, she didn't protest. She leaned against him and he responded by pushing her hair to one side and leaning his head forward on her shoulder to whisper, "You know the routine. Close your eyes. Relax."

She did know the routine. She also knew better than to fight him. Countless hours spent on the bathroom floor pathetically sobbing when she was pregnant with Paige proving that she was no match for morning sickness and hormones. Allowing her resistance to falter one particularly miserable night, she learned that the same could not be said for Philip, who, much to her chagrin, had a curious knack for easing her morning sickness. She wasn't sure what infuriated her more about that fact – the resulting destruction of the personal boundaries between them or that he had any power over her at all.

As was procedure, he snaked an arm around her, sliding his hand underneath her shirt. He lightly pressed his hand to her abdomen, keeping it steady as he whispered, "Breathe. Just relax. Breathe."

Reluctantly following his orders, she closed her eyes and focused on her breathing.

She used to wonder if maybe this wasn't a skill of Philip's at all, but rather her daughter's first declaration of parental preference. And now, as a steady wave of calm washed over her, she wondered if this child was voicing a similar opinion.

She was suddenly overtaken by emotion. She cursed the chemicals clouding her brain, tears building as sad grey eyes met his.

"What?" Philip flashed a half-hearted smile, "Did I lose the magic touch?"

Elizabeth clenched her eyes shut, forcing the pathetic truth from her lips, "I don't think I can do this again."

"What?"

"This. I can't do it. That's why I didn't tell you. I was going to-" she shook her head, "-I can't do it, Philip."

"Hey, hey, hey," his voice was unexpectedly gentle as he turned her toward him, "That's not true."

She tried to pull away, "Let go of me."

"No." He responded by enveloping her in an embrace, "No. Just listen to me for a second," he pulled back when she complied. He placed a finger under her chin and searched to meet her eyes. Guilt overtook her when she saw his eyes had flooded with tears.

His next statement intensified the blow, "Do you honestly have no idea how absolutely amazing you are?"

She scoffed, diverting her eyes away from his, "Don't patronize me."

"I'm not. I wouldn't." Philip shook his head, pausing for a moment as he searched for the right words. "Elizabeth - have you seen the little girl you made? She's perfect. And she started out like this too. So, this part is terrible, sure. But it was worth it, right? I mean, now that she's here."

He lifted a thumb to trace away the faint tears that managed to push their way through all of her resolve. "Am I wrong?"

She shook her head.

"We'll get through this," Philip pressed his forehead to hers, "I promise."

Pulling his face away from hers, Elizabeth was snapped back to reality by the look in his eyes. It had become harder and harder to deny what that particular look meant. The way the blue in his eyes deepened, his expression softened. It was a look that has become reserved for her and Paige, exclusively. A look that threatened to distort the line between reality and illusion.

Retreat now her only option, she stood up, grateful that she was able to do so stably this time. She smoothed her shirt and turned to the mirror to fix her hair. He stood up after her, an awkward silence growing as he stood inches from her back.

She turned her head to peer at the clock on the nightstand in the bedroom before turning back to face his reflection in the mirror, "You need to go."

"What?" He asked, mind still trying to process her sudden withdrawal.

"The meet. You need to go."

He glanced at the clock, the angry red numbers breaking his concentration, "Shit." He looked back to Elizabeth's reflection, "Are you okay?"

Her eyes locked with his, "Go."

The silence hung between them, the elephant in the room growing larger by the second. Finally, drawing a deep breath, Philip asked, "Do you want me to message the Centre on my way back?" There was no doubt as to what his question really meant – there would be no turning back once Moscow gave their seal of approval. He started to continue when she didn't answer immediately "About the –"

"No." Elizabeth cut him off, quickly continuing as she watched his heart sink, "I can do it. Maybe take Paige to the park after."

He smiled. "She would like that."

"Philip." She kept her voice stern.

He nodded, "Be home as soon as I can." She was grateful when he turned away, the smile plastered on his face threatening to spread to hers.

Elizabeth remained in front of the mirror long after she heard the car pull out of the driveway. She stared at her reflection, the implications of what had just occurred weighing heavy on her chest. Just when she thought she would suffocate, a tiny voice pulled her back, "Mommy!"

She turned her head just in time to catch a flash of red-hair at her feet as tiny arms wrapped around her legs, "Where did you come from?"

"You!" Paige squealed at the retort she undoubtedly picked up from her father, having also picked up his tendency to laugh at his own jokes.

"Okay, Paige," Elizabeth looked down at the girl, corners of her mouth raising, "let's go to the park."


End file.
